


Had She Said The Word

by idiosyncraticWordsmith (literaryAspirant)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Intrigue, Jedi Master Dooku (Star Wars), What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:48:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28531710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryAspirant/pseuds/idiosyncraticWordsmith
Summary: "If you had said the word, I would have left the Jedi Order."What if she had?
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

Slowly, gently, dawn came to a world at peace.

Already the bed was empty, of course. There was little time for respite, and the Duchess of Mandalore had risen before dawn to prepare for the day ahead. There was a great deal to do, and that included works of diplomacy, which added easily an hour in preparation just for appropriate wardrobe. Fortunately, the most important preparations were long since put into place. All she needed before the day was to bathe, clothe, and feed.

And, of course, to find her husband.

“Your Grace,” her handmaiden greeted as she helped her dress after her bathing. “A droid had just come by, with a message from the duke. He said that he would meet with you for breakfast.”

“Where has he been?” Satine asked, masking her tiredness with impatience. “I was surprised to find him gone already.”

“I do not know Your Grace,” the handmaiden said, assisting the Duchess with donning an elaborate layer of robing. “The droid did not say, though it mentioned he was apparently taken to some labor or other.”

Satine sighed. “What labor has he taken up at this hour? Honestly, after all these years, I’d expect him to learn to pace himself…”

“Respectfully, your grace,” the handmaid smiled, “I do not believe your grace married the duke for his tendency to pace himself.”

Satine scoffed. “No, I suppose not. Nobody could love that man for his sense of leisure… and his diligence has proven helpful.”

“I recall your grace remarking in this very chamber several times how much your grace values the duke’s contributions to the affairs of state,” the handmaiden smiled playfully. Satine laughed quietly.

“To the affairs of the state, certainly,” Satine said, “but his labors leave me with a surplus of duke and a deficit of husband.”

At that moment, a serving-droid entered the chamber.

“Pardon, your grace,” the droid buzzed, “breakfast is served in the dining room.”

“Is his grace the duke present yet?” Satine asked.

“Not when I departed the dining room, no,” the droid reported.

“Then I had best take some leisure of my own in arriving,” Satine said, placing the finishing touches on her ensemble. “Lest I find myself once more waiting on his grace.”

“I will go fetch the duke, if it will please your grace,” the droid offered.

“Please do,” Satine said. “If his work required his attention like this, I trust it is important, but I do not trust him to part from it at an appropriate time. I do not intend to have him be ‘fashionably late’ again.”

“Very well, your grace,” the droid said, bowing before taking its leave.

“Come,” Satine said to her handmaiden as they completed her outfit. “I would like to be seated and eating before my husband arrives.”

“But your grace,” the handmaiden said, following her out, “you said you did not wish to wait on him again?”

“I do not,” Satine said, “but if he waits on me, I shall never hear the end of it.”


	2. Chapter 2

Duke-Consort Obi-wan was in trouble.

It had nothing to do with the troubling conversation he had just undergone in the secure transmissions chamber. Nothing to do with the mysterious figure with whom he had conversed. Nothing to do with the warnings, cryptic and ominous, imparted onto him. Nothing to do at all with the trembling echoes he had felt in the Force, cold and tepid, like harsh, panicked whispers just out of earshot.

It had everything to do with the fact that he was late, once more, to breakfast.

“Your grace,” Obi-wan greeted as he entered the dining hall. There was Satine, of course, seated in her splendor at the head of the table. She had already begun eating, he noticed. He held back a cringe as the severity of his tardiness became apparent.

“Be glad I am so graceful, my lord,” Satine chided frigidly. “Or you would receive far more than my scowl and scolds.”

“Of course, my lady,” Obi-wan nodded, approaching. “I hope you will forgive me, in that renowned grace of yours, when I tell you I was occupied with urgent business. A matter of state, and state security.”

“That you could not share with me?” Satine glowered. “No, I shan’t forgive you, and if anything, you have raised my ire further. I was willing to believe your business was worthy of your time, especially given the hour at which you conducted it. But to hear that you have been engaged in affairs of the state without telling me?”

“I have done so in the past, my lady,” Obi-wan reminded, his tone firm. “It did not displease your grace then.”

“It was not a matter of urgency or of state security, as you say,” Satine said. “I am happy to have your initiative on my side, Obi-wan, but I would be happy to be rid of this secrecy you seem to have donned. This is not the first time you have gone off on some clandestine matter. I respect your privacy, but it is beginning to wear on my patience that my own husband is going behind my back to engage in governance.”

“That is not…” Obi-wan started, before cutting himself off and trying again, calming himself. He was no Jedi any longer, but their teachings continued to guide and center him. Thus he allowed himself to be centered, and led away from egotistic passions.

“I did not wish to offend or worry you,” Obi-wan said, his voice softer. “I did not share this matter with you before, as it was a private matter previously. However, this morning’s developments give me reason to believe it will not remain that way.”

“Explain yourself,” Satine ordered.

“I have been in communication with a curious contact, who claims to be an independent intelligence agent,” Obi-wan explained. “They are a former member of an agency which reports to one of the neutral worlds. Therefore, they had means and knowledge to access me—to, in their words, establish a working relationship.”

“To what end?” Satine asked. “Why make this a private affair rather than correspond with our official channels?”

“They claim they do not trust the official channels,” Obi-wan said. “That they have reason to believe that they are not secure.”

“Not secure?” Satine repeated indignantly. “Our security systems—”

“Are sufficient to secure them against terrorists and pirates,” Obi-wan said, “not a dedicated cyberattack by the Republic. Or the Separatists.”

“Is that what this is about?” Satine asked. “The war?”

“In a way,” Obi-wan nodded. “They indicated that my history as a Jedi made me more trustworthy.”

“You aren’t a Jedi,” Satine said quietly, distantly. He knew that tone. The inching echoes of doubt and regret.

“And that is why, they said, I am trustworthy,” Obi-wan went on. “So far it has only remained a private correspondence. They offered some useful intelligence they had gathered—troop movements, supply chains, political maneuverings in the Senate and in Parliament—and in return I consented to hear them out, and determine for myself if what they had to say was worth our while.”

“And you did not consult with me on this?”

“I had to verify their information,” Obi-wan said, “and their background. I wasn’t going to waste your time and attention on an overambitious private investigator.”

“And what has convinced you that they’re anything but?”

“Nothing,” Obi-wan said, “but their transmission today… something felt wrong. I could sense it, in the Force.”

“In the Force?” Satine repeated, her displeasure giving way to concern.

“Yes, duchess,” Obi-wan noted.

“You are sure?”

“I am.”

Satine contemplated this, and took a drink to pass the silence.

“Elaborate, Obi-wan.”

“They warned that neutrality will not always remain an option,” he said. “That those who remain in the middle will always be torn apart by those with the conviction to choose a side.”

“This sounds like distasteful philosophy, not an existential threat.”

“I felt the same, listening to them,” Obi-wan nodded. “I was just deciding they had run out of my patience, when they parted with a final note that sent a shiver down my spine.”

“Which was?”

“That war was coming,” Obi-wan said. “And Master Dooku would bring it.”

“We have prepared for any violence from Death Watch in the wake of this visitation,” Satine said. “If this hooligan means to imply a terrorist attack will send Mandalore reeling, they have no idea—”

“Satine,” Obi-wan emphasized. “They named Master Dooku and his apprentice specifically.”

“…I don’t follow your point, Obi-wan,” Satine lied.

“Let us maintain our wits as we navigate this visit,” Obi-wan said. “Keep a sharp eye out, and a sharper ear. I know much of Master Dooku, but his apprentice is an enigma to me. I would not say I distrust either, but… the Force is warning me about something being amiss here, and I cannot ignore that.”

Satine nodded, and finished the last scraps of her breakfast.

“Very well, then,” Satine said, standing. “Then ignore it we shall not. I shall take your warnings to heart.”

“That is all I ask, my love,” Obi-wan nodded. “Whatever happens, I shall see you, and our people, safe.”

“I know you shall, Obi-wan,” Satine said softly. For the first time that morning, Obi-wan saw her smile.


End file.
